


Crimson

by bloodvein



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Sharing, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Immortality, Love/Hate, Minor Violence, Olivia goes to Queens SVU instead of Manhattan SVU, Vampires, What-If, season 1 based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodvein/pseuds/bloodvein
Summary: Two lonely strangers meet and there is no coincidence about it.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first vampire fic, please be gentle.

The city at night exhilarates her.

She feels the burning need in her throat – but she quickly suppresses it, for self-control is something she’s found comes easily in this new life. Her eyes slip closed and she concentrates, honing in on the sounds she needs to hear. They fly open when the unmistakable noise of a radio keying up comes to her.

Her legs slow to a human speed when she turns out of the alley. Twenty minutes ago she had gotten a call from her Captain to assist on a Manhattan case and she begrudgingly agreed, only because her partner was out for the entire week while testifying in a recent case they had closed. She and Dana had an easy working relationship. Dana knew who she was – what she was – and never judged. Her southern upbringing had taught her all about people like Olivia.

They had closed hundreds of cases together over the last three years.

Olivia wasn’t completely opposed to working with someone new if it was just for a single case. It would probably be difficult, but she would push through it. Getting used to the heady scent of Dana’s blood had been challenging – though that was years ago, and she has learned since then. It was the other woman’s persistence and unflinching belief in her that had gotten her through. She taught Olivia how to be a detective, and in that, taught her to be herself.

Who she truly is.

An unfamiliar smell filters through her senses. Her tongue smooths over her fangs, soothing them and coaxing them back in. Her instincts are kicking in, her muscles tense in her leather jacket. She’s preparing herself for a fight and she isn’t sure why – until she sees him.

The air around him shifts. It’s a faint, white hue that surrounds him. Her nostrils flare as she takes in another breath of him. He’s thirty feet away from her. She gets the first look, the first smell. Her senses are better than his, she assumes. Or maybe he’s playing it cool in front of the humans they’re surrounded with.

The badge hanging around his neck makes her jaw lock.

This must be Elliot Stabler.

Her eyes flicker over his body. He’s strong but moves at an appropriately slow speed. She wonders how long he’s been like her, if she’s stronger than him or if he’ll be able to outfight her. The competitive side of her smiles – it’s been a long time since she’s had an equal playing field. Humans try to fight her but her strength is no match for their weakness.

Olivia crosses under the yellow tape, flashing her badge at the uniformed officers that guard the crime scene. The wind shifts and his head turns instantly toward her. His eyes are a dark, dark blue that she’s never seen on a human before.

_He’s hungry._

A man that large is probably hungry often, she surmises. He narrows his eyes at her – assessing, calculating, guessing. She’s better than most at hiding her true self; she feeds often, her skin is warm and flushed, she wears makeup to cover the darkened circles under her eyes that only someone like them can see.

His gaze moves down her body slowly, lingering over her long legs before raising back to her eyes.

“Olivia Benson, Queens SVU,” she holds out her hand for a handshake. His expression hardens, he doesn’t reach to shake her hand.

“Elliot Stabler,” he grumbles, she can hear the territorial edge to his voice and wants to roll her eyes. “You lost? Queens is across the bridge.”

She scoffs and pulls a pair of latex gloves from her back pocket. “Your Captain requested someone from my unit to come, so I’m here.” Olivia steps closer to him, quickly holding her breath as she is overwhelmed by the tantalizing scent of him, up close and personal. “Is there going to be a problem, Stabler?”

He must sense that she isn’t human – he would have when he first smelled her upon her approach – but she can see he’s still trying to place exactly _what_ she is. A smile crosses her face; she prides herself on looking the part.

Looking human.

“No,” he whispers. His mouth opens just enough when he speaks that she sees his fangs, white and glimmering in the moonlight. His self-control is pitiful, she can’t understand how someone this out of control can still hold a job. Maybe he’s newer than she had originally anticipated.

“Good.”

Olivia pulls her gloves on with a snap and steps out of his vicinity, pacing over to the lifeless body on the ground. She goes to work and the entire time she feels his eyes and his presence. He doesn’t speak to her and she’s grateful – her fangs threaten to appear every time the wind changes direction and she catches that _scent._

She’s smelled other vampires before. Not many, but enough to know the scent.

And none of them smell like him.

+++++++

* * *

They had gotten off on the wrong foot.

She had come to _his_ crime scene, acting like she owned the place despite not even being in the boundaries of her own precinct. She touted a level of confidence that enraged him because he couldn’t even place what kind of creature she was.

Not human.

No, that much was obvious. He’d kept his head down when she approached but he smelled her the second she had rounded the corner, before she had even crossed the yellow tape and come into his life. His gums burned – his body told him to fight – but this wasn’t the time or place. Not with a young woman dead at his feet, a thin white cloth the only thing between his fangs and her blood.

His throat itches at the memory.

After they had finished at the crime scene, she reluctantly rode with him back to the station, having walked to the crime scene. He doubts she lives in that part of Manhattan but he doesn’t push the issue. Every conversation they have is curt. The elephant in the room was so large it threatened to suffocate two people who don’t need to breathe in order to survive.

Back in the precinct, Elliot had run to his personal vehicle and drained two blood bags before he was able to stop himself. He’d growled when he finished – his hunger was never truly sated. Just another side effect of the life that he had been given on _that_ fateful night.

“You’ve barely started working on the case together, Elliot. Why don’t you give it some time?” His Captain draws his attention back to their conversation. Cragen doesn’t understand – of course he doesn’t.

He doesn’t _know._

No one in his unit does.

They chalk his irritability and sudden mood swings up to his failed marriage and unaddressed anger problems. Perhaps that had been true in his human life, but that wasn’t the truth anymore. It was blood that’s kept him on edge for nearly three years.

“Besides, Dana Lewis is out the entire week for a trial.”

“Cap, please-” he begins to plea when he sees Olivia’s figure storm by the open office door. She heard – even a human would have heard their conversation from that close. Elliot didn’t realize she was even back from lunch yet, otherwise, he would have taken him somewhere private to plead with the older man.

“You better go apologize and make this right.”

Don leans back in his chair while Elliot grunts, leaving the office quickly in pursuit of his new partner. It’s temporary, he reminds himself. Even Cragen had asserted it was only temporary. She’s got her position in her unit, he’s got his. They’re just filling the gaps until they can find someone permanent.

Who knows when that will be.

He’s pissed now – how dare she make him feel guilty for asking for her to be sent away, she can’t possibly think they could work together. Not when he’s who he is and Olivia is whatever she is. He doesn’t have time to solve this murder and figure her out.

His fangs appear of their own volition when he turns the corner towards the locker rooms. He follows her scent in, pausing momentarily in front of the mirrors. His heightened senses take over and he closes his eyes to allow himself to fully take her in, just for a second until he gets his bearings. He can’t deny that there’s something about her that continually draws him in.

Whatever it is makes him hungry. It makes him want to fight her. Tear her apart. Dive into her, headfirst. He might be dangerous but she is too. Her ability to almost seamlessly blend in with the humans around her is something he’s never seen before.

The murder can wait.

He needs to see this through and find out what she’s hiding. Perhaps the knowledge of whatever she’s hiding from him will make her bearable to work with. His eyes snap open when he hears her heeled boots coming from the bathrooms.

“Benson,” he calls out, too quiet for a human to hear.

_The hunt is the most exciting part of the kill._

He walks forward to the line of sinks and stares into the mirror. He’ll sense any direction she comes from, his back facing her will make him look more vulnerable. If she thinks she can have the upper hand, he’ll allow her to think that before he swipes the control back.

She’s in his territory now.

His mouth pools with saliva. His body craves the fight – it senses the danger and wants more of it. A flash of black passes behind him and then back again. His jaw tenses. She’s playing games and he’s not happy.

“I can hear your heart pounding,” he hears her laughter echo out from behind the lockers. He’s coiled and ready to pounce then, but she’s quicker, her rock-solid body slamming his upper thighs into the sinks as she pushes him towards the mirrors.

Elliot’s eyes narrow on her. He stays still, his fearless body suddenly frozen in its place. Her left hand presses into the side of his head, revealing his pale neck to her. His breath catches in his throat when she bares her teeth – her white fangs grazing against his icy skin. Her free hand coils around his waist and holds his back against her chest tightly. Olivia’s eyes are bright, though they are narrowed and focused on his reaction.

_She’s just like him._

It’s then that he realizes he’s in a lot more danger than he originally anticipated.

Olivia retracts her fangs and takes her hands off of him, backing away and giving him some space. He releases a harsh breath, a growl growing in his throat. His body whirls around before he can stop it. A regular human would be shocked or scared – instead, he’s enraged.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” He hisses, pushing her roughly into the locker room wall. Olivia only smiles in return, slapping his hands away from her shoulders.

“I should be asking you the same thing. Going behind my back to ask for me to be sent away, pretty cowardly don’t you think?”

He wants to kill her and all at the same time, he’s never been harder in his life. Elliot growls in her face but she growls back, the vampire traits she disguised begin to show themselves in the power of her voice and the fearlessness she presents to him. His hands instinctively trap her wrists against the wall, his knuckles scraping roughly on the cement.

“I could rip your heart out right now and be done with you,” Elliot threatens, watching as her crimson lips curl into a snarl, her fangs reappearing.

She laughs at him, leaning into him so close he can almost feel her mouth on his when she speaks. “You could try,” Olivia whispers. Her wrists flex beneath his hands, though she doesn’t attempt to move away from him. “I’m a good detective you know.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh.

“You haven’t done anything to warrant that claim.”

Her tongue darts out, gliding across his bottom lip before she dips her head toward his ear.

“I found the murder weapon twenty minutes ago.”

He tries to breathe. His eyes drop down when she leans back on the wall again, a smug smile gracing her stunning features. It’s then that he allows himself to look – to really look at her while he’s got her plastered to the wall. He only gave her a quick once over at the crime scene, he was too distracted with his mind running through every scenario of how a physical battle would look between them. She’s in front of him now; all curves and sin and his slacks are unbearably tight.

When he first became a vampire, he accepted that he was going to hell.

Now at least he knows he’ll have company on the way down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia is tempted by Elliot's lack of restraint.

On her third night at the precinct, she dreams of blood.

Even her subconscious is sending her signals to feed. The first night she had managed, there were always ways to get around her growing need. A warm blood bag from her purse had helped – although she was hungrier than usual. Rage did that to her.

In three short days, Elliot had begun to unravel her easy routine. Her self-control remained intact but there were dents and cracks in it now, all because of him. Instead of working as a team, she swore he chose to be an asshole day in and day out. Perhaps she had started it all by finding the murder weapon before he had even had the chance to.

Perhaps his detective skills weren't as sharp as hers.

The rest of the squad had started to catch on. Munch had thought it was funny – how she had found the murder weapon, how Elliot was playing it off as beginner's luck. There was no luck involved. She was pissed and decided to go back to a section of the park they hadn't searched, and sure enough, hidden down the side of a public garbage bin was the bloody knife they were looking for.

Their animosity only feeds into her competitive side.

With Elliot working against her – not with her – she had developed an idea of who the perp could be, a shortlist of suspects, and was waiting for fingerprints to come back from the knife. He had growled under his breath about how it was _his case_ and _his precinct._ It spurred her to continue pushing forward.

He didn't make it easy for her.

When he spoke to her, it was deadly quiet, almost under his breath. She could hear every word with clarity, and if there was one positive out of the entire situation, it was that they could talk in a room full of people and no one would be the wiser.

_"_ _No one likes an ass-kisser, Olivia."_

_"_ _Watch yourself, I might solve this murder while you're cursing me out."_

After hours of pouring over photos and witness statements, she went to the cribs for a power nap. Just a few hours, she justified. Only enough to escape her hunger and slip into unconsciousness and recharge a bit. She woke up two hours later, her fangs out – the _need_ inside of her so strong she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

_Breathe._

She has to remind herself to do it in moments like these. It's a human function. Her body doesn't necessarily need it, it's more of a habit than anything. It gets uncomfortable but it's useful – at crime scenes, being near particularly tempting people – the ability to stop breathing did serve a good purpose.

Olivia looks at her reflection in the glass on the door for a moment before she exits. She runs her fingers through her hair and tries to remember exactly what happened in the dream; if there were specific people or faces, though nothing comes back to her. All she remembers is the taste of blood on her tongue and the burning in her throat beginning to subside.

Awake now, her hunger grows deeper.

As soon as she steps out of the cribs, she knows something is amiss. The absence of his scent confuses her. Over the last few days, she'd grown accustomed to the smell of Elliot. It's strong and tantalizing. He's the ultimate temptation. She wonders if she has the same effect on him.

Something deep within her tells her it does.

Olivia scans the bullpen from the top of the stairs but doesn't see him, only Fin. The overhead lights are off, only a few desk lamps illuminate the quiet bullpen. His head pops up when she descends the stairs. She's so sluggish from lack of feeding and exhaustion that her feet drag a tiny bit with each step.

"Hey, you seen Elliot?"

Her gut tells her wherever he is, he's not in any better shape than her.

"He stepped out about twenty minutes ago. Said he's going out for a bite."

_Shit._

* * *

She's not sure how she found him.

Maybe it was just luck that brought her here. Within a two-block radius lies Washington Square Park and NYU – it's the perfect hunting ground for a vampire. Loaded with dark corners and pathways, the journey from the bar she stands in front of is probably everything he's looking for tonight. She tries not to focus too much on it.

He's nothing if not a man of patterns, she's realized. Every action executed by him has some causation behind it, whether it's a snag in their case or an argument between the two of them. He moves through life with purpose and intent. She understands the origins of some of his behaviors. He's a prick and he's territorial but he cares deeply about those around him. That intensity is only personified with their case and in turn, he projects that onto her.

She sees him for who he truly is.

Her eyes involuntarily roll back as she moves through the bar. It's a college sports bar; not too fancy, a few neon signs hanging from the walls and bartenders in black. Everything about the establishment is oddly familiar to her, but she brushes it off as the lack of originality within the off yellow walls.

Elliot won't be inside – she wouldn't be if she were in his shoes. He could be upstairs, though that would pose too many witnesses. It's been an hour and vampires are quick to the punch. She brushes past two women kissing in the hall near the bathroom, their drunken giggles fill her ears when she pushes on the heavy door, bursting back out into the night.

It slams behind her and she's trapped.

Her fangs immediately come out as the scent of human blood nearly overwhelms her. The late night air doesn't affect her how it used to when she was human. She knows it's crisp, there's a sharpness to the air but she doesn't feel any of it. Her mouth begins to pool with saliva and she swallows thickly as her eyes adjust to the absence of light.

Against the back of the building, a young woman is clawing at Elliot. From her vantage point, Olivia can see she isn't trying to get him away from her, but rather she is grasping and straining to bring him closer. Her mind fills with a single thought – her only thought during these frantic times in her new life.

_Blood._

She is at the bottom of the stairs and a few feet away from Elliot before she can stop herself. A growl comes from deep in the back of his throat and makes her muscles tense. His eyes fly open and for a single moment, she prepares herself for the biggest fight of her life. There is a wildness in his bright irises – he openly embraces the untamed beast within himself in front of her now. His mouth is obscured by the young woman's shoulder, though she sees his cheeks lift into a smirk.

Elliot pulls himself away from the human. His lips are red with blood. He smiles brightly at her, the thrill of the feed is visible all over him. Every fibre in her body constricts at the sight. A fire burns deep in her belly, the arousal takes her by surprise and knocks the wind out of her.

"Here for a drink?"

She shakes her head, she can't speak. There is blood in the air and if she opens her mouth, she swears she will be able to taste it, and surely, she will lose control.

_Hold on, just a little longer._

"Come on, Olivia. Live a little," he taunts, brushing the woman's blonde hair to the other side of her head, the fang marks becoming visible. Two small lines of blood follow the marks down her neck and Olivia holds her breath. He laughs at her, dipping his head to collect the redness on his tongue.

Elliot groans in pleasure and closes his eyes.

She takes her opportunity and runs.

From him, from her, from temptation.

* * *

It's only two blocks until she stops running.

She's breathless for once. This is the longest she's ever gone without blood and simultaneously the most tempted she's ever felt in her whole life. Her lungs burn as she fights for air. It's nothing compared to the fire that's roaring in her throat, however. There are a few people that pass her while she slows to a walk. It takes all her effort not to become feral and just feed and feed and feed until it all goes away.

_Fuck Elliot._ Fuck fuck fuck him.

He only reminds her of the parts of herself she tries to contain and fails. Every day she chooses to live under the guise of a human. Every day she chooses not to snatch unsuspecting people and drink from them and compel them to forget the encounter after. She's been this way for three years. Three years of strength and resilience and she has never slipped up since the day she woke up in this very park. It was one of the darkest days of her life.

She can't think of it – not now. Not when she needs to focus every part of herself on calming down enough to rationally think about where she can feed.

Olivia finds a tree and leans her back against it, her hands grasp backward to steady herself on the bark. It's one of her favorite spots in Washington Square Park. White flower petals cover the ground near her from a small nearby tree. The late fall atmosphere has those who walk in the park shoving their hands in their pockets and pulling at their jackets, and for that she is thankful. The less exposed skin, the less tempted she'll be.

She's still breathless.

It makes her feel more human than she's felt in a long time.

Elliot appears to her then. He's running at her and fresh from his feed, he's stronger than ever. He walks the last few feet to her effortlessly and he's so arrogant and cocky she wants to hurl herself at him. She needs that fight. To prove she's dominant. Something in her tells her it'll come down to that. Perhaps not now, when she is so weak she's doubling over.

"Go away," she groans, clutching at her throat. It's so dry, just a bit of blood would help. He's touching her now – his warm hand steadies her hip, his other hand cups the back of her neck and pulls her upright.

"You're weak, Olivia," he informs her, and there's a tinge of something in his voice she's never heard before. "You need to feed."

"No."

She's not allowing him to talk her into killing someone. Not tonight. Not ever. Her hazy eyes find him, and she can't help the way they drop to his mouth. His lips are stained red and she smells the sweet, sweet blood on him.

_No._

Olivia slaps his hands away. He shouldn't be here, taunting her like this. She needs to find a donor clinic or something quickly. When her strength is back up, she'll get him back then. Out of the corner of her eye, Elliot bites into his wrist and offers it to her. "Feed," he whispers. His thumb swipes a few drops of blood and brushes it over her lips.

Her fangs involuntarily come out. She's never fed from another vampire, she isn't sure if there are adverse effects. There's no time for her to dwell on the things she doesn't know. Her fingers close around his wrist and she ponders for a moment if she could drain the life out of him like this if he would fight back while she killed him.

Elliot nods to her and lets the scent of his blood wash over her senses. It's the same tantalizing smell that comes off of him that runs in his veins. Her fangs sink into him and he is heaven and hell mixed, every carnal, sinful thought that's crossed her mind is in his blood. It's so very perfect. The warm, thick blood fills her mouth and she groans as she opens her eyes, the taste of him knocks her off balance with pleasure.

His body guides her back to the tree and they crash into it but neither one of them make a noise. Instead, he brings her body back into his, her shoulder blades settling comfortably on his chest. "That's it," he encourages. Everything within her body is alight – she's drank a lot of blood in her three years as a vampire, though none of them taste like his. Olivia shifts her body and feels him then; his unmistakably hard length pressing firmly into her hip. She sways once more and his cock nestles between her asscheeks.

She drinks and drinks, the heady groans that come from him only serve to egg her on further. Her energy was slowly being restored, her fingertips tingled with the strength that returned to her. It was desperation that had filled her before. Now it was his blood. Her body is so warm all over that she barely feels him moving behind her, his free hand pulling the material of her clothes away from her shoulder.

His fangs plunge into her skin.

Under the cover of darkness, they feed on each other.

She won't soon forget how he had tempted her tonight.


End file.
